


Humans Don't Come Back

by deviantjoy



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Canon Compliant, Emotionally Repressed, Gen, Grieving Connor, Hank Anderson & Connor Parent-Child Relationship, Hank Anderson Dies, Hank Anderson and Connor are Family, Other, Sumo (Detroit: Become Human) Dies, basically hank’s dead n connor’s sad, yes i had to do it i’m sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 07:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27649298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deviantjoy/pseuds/deviantjoy
Summary: He took a few hesitant steps inside, as if he couldn’t believe what his systems were telling him, then ran to his side. ”Hank—no, no, Hank, come on!”He felt for his pulse.Nothing.
Relationships: Hank Anderson & Connor, Hank Anderson & Connor & Sumo
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	Humans Don't Come Back

**Author's Note:**

> this is based on [this](https://twitter.com/yulim__0/status/1027477009075560448) fan art that i really liked and wanted to write about bc angst >:) enjoy the feels

Numb.

Connor felt numb.

He was sitting on the bench in Riverside Park, two weeks after Hank’s death, and he felt nothing.

Or, rather, he felt something. He just couldn’t seem to let it through.

It reminded him of what being nothing but a machine had felt like. Feeling emotions, knowing he’s feeling them, but pushing and shoving them back down so they wouldn’t show. Fighting to hide them, to drown them and cover them up with only thoughts that related to his mission. It had almost become instinctual, his natural reaction to even the slightest signs of emotion; of deviancy.

He realized now that part of the reason why he did that was out of fear.

Fear of becoming deviant, fear of being found out, fear of being sent back and deactivated and destroyed and _killed_.

He’d always been afraid of feeling.

He remembered when Sumo died three years after the revolution. Soon after he moved in, Hank had made him see a therapist, another android, and helped him make progress on learning not to be so afraid of and opposed to feeling. Even if he didn’t know how to, he’d done his best to support him through anything and everything and he’d been the one to catch him whenever he fell too far.

But all of that progress had been lost when Connor first noticed the symptoms that Sumo was dying. Hank was in denial at first, but they had both known what was coming.

The following weeks, Connor had almost reverted back to how he’d previously been. Hank saw how he was so willing to do anything for him, from chores and housework to paperwork and reports and he’d let him do what he wanted for the first couple of days, but it didn’t take long for him to get fed up of ordering him around like he was still just a machine.

What he hadn’t seen, though, was Connor trying his hardest to keep himself together. Before, he’d built walls to keep emotions out and he’d been trying to break them down, but now, he was afraid of the negative emotions drowning out the positive ones. No emotions were better than too many negative emotions, so he needed something, _anything_ to distract himself so the walls wouldn’t fall and crush him under their weight.

His therapist had told him he was suppressing his emotions as a coping mechanism but he still fought constantly to keep his LED blue so Hank wouldn’t worry, though it occasionally glinted yellow.

But when it came time to euthanize Sumo, he and Hank remained beside him and he couldn’t help his LED turning red.

He’d never dealt with loss before.

Before Hank and Sumo, he’d never been attached to anyone enough to be able to process the grief. And when he’d realized he was going to lose one of them... he’d had no idea how to handle it.

It wasn’t any different now.

No, that was wrong.

Now, his LED spun a constant yellow, flickering red every few seconds, because there was nobody to worry about it.

Now, he’d lost both of them.

Now, he had nothing else to lose.

What was left for him now?

Hank had put him in his will and left everything he had in Connor’s possession. Technically, he still had everything.

But losing Hank felt like he was left with nothing.

Sitting on the park bench, he began to reconstruct what had happened there a hundred years ago. He felt his LED flash red when he watched Hank’s outline form beside him but ignored it.

This memory wasn’t one of his favorites, but it was one way to remember him, and he would never let himself forget him. He remembered every part of it perfectly.

**DATE: NOVEMBER 7, 2038**

**EVENT: COLE DISCUSSION & THREAT**

**◻ RECONSTRUCT**

He watched his own outline walk up beside Hank’s and replayed the audio he’d saved from this exact moment.

_“Nice view, huh?”_

He looked out toward Ambassador Bridge, remembering how its lights had reflected faintly off the river. They were off now, but at night, they certainly did look nice.

_“I used to come here a lot, before...”_

Past Hank drank from the beer bottle he held in his hand and it hurt to watch. His alcoholism had been part of the reason he’d died sooner than he should’ve, at 153 years old, while the average life expectancy was 161-164. He’d convinced him to stop drinking after he moved in and made sure he took care of himself, but it seemed even that hadn’t been enough to reverse the effects of years of alcoholism and an unhealthy lifestyle.

He’d give anything to get those remaining 8 years with him.

Hell, he’d give anything to just get one more day with him. An hour would suffice. He’d even take a minute if he could.

_“Before what?”_

At the time, he’d guessed that Hank was referring to Cole’s death.

_“Hm?”_

_“You said, ‘I used to come here a lot, before.’ Before what?”_

He’d still chosen to tread carefully, as he knew it was a sensitive topic.

_“Before...”_

Hank had told him later on that this was one of the moments before the Cyberlife Tower incident where he really considered opening up.

_“Before nothing.”_

He watched himself turn to face him, crossing his arms hesitantly, unsure if his next question would be appropriate.

_“Can I ask you a personal question, Lieutenant?”_

_“Do all androids ask so many personal questions, or is it just you?”_

If it didn’t hurt so much just to remember Hank’s voice, he would’ve wanted to laugh at the sarcasm he remembered dripping from his voice.

_“Why are you so determined to kill yourself?”_

The question stung even him now, but he was just glad that wasn’t how he’d died.

_“Some things I just can’t forget. Whatever I do, they’re always there, eating away at me. I don’t have the guts to pull the trigger, so I kill myself a little more every day.”_

Hank’s outline turned to look at Connor’s.

_“That’s probably pretty difficult for you to understand, huh, Connor? Nothing very rational about it.”_

That was true; he hadn’t really understood at the time. But now, he understood better than he ever wished he could’ve.

He’d spent the past three weeks avoiding Hank’s room. Hell, he’d spent the past three weeks avoiding their house. Or... his house, now. He hadn’t been back in exactly two weeks, three days and eleven hours. Instead, he’d been walking around for days on end, just trying to distract himself, trying to get away from reality.

He’d considered staying with Markus for a couple of days, but decided against it. Markus had lost Carl three years prior, at 169 years old, and Connor didn’t want to worry him or be a burden on him. Besides, he didn’t need a place to stay. He could withstand the weather and he didn’t need to eat or sleep.

Markus had moved on two and a half years ago.

But Connor wasn’t strong like he was.

He was weak. Weak and pathetic. He couldn’t even go back home after three weeks because he couldn’t handle it.

He hadn’t even gone to any of his therapy sessions because he wasn’t ready to talk about it.

All he could do was walk around, seeing the exact same things over and over again, in a feeble attempt to stop the memory from replaying in his head on a constant, never-ending loop.

He hated how having a perfect memory allowed him to remember everything exactly.

_”Hank? Are you awake yet?” Connor called from the living room, sitting on the couch with the TV on. By this time, he was usually up already and making coffee for himself, but sometimes he slept in, especially because of how old he complained about being. However, Connor had made it his responsibility to make sure he maintained a regular sleep schedule._

_He got no response._

_He sighed and stood up. “TV off.” Hank was lucky he’d retired a decade ago. If not, he’d have been late for work today. Connor had stayed, though, and, throughout the years, worked his way up the ranks to a Commander. He still had a couple minutes before he had to leave for work, though, so he’d take the time to wake him up. Besides, he needed to change into his uniform. He could do that after he woke up Hank._

_He made his way to Hank’s room and knocked on the door, just in case he was awake. “Hank?”_

_Still no response. Definitely asleep._

_But he had a strange feeling. A bad feeling._

_He opened the door and saw Hank laying in bed, but—something was wrong._

_He wasn’t breathing._

_He took a few hesitant steps inside, as if he couldn’t believe what his systems were telling him, then ran to his side. ”Hank—no, no, Hank, come on!”_

_He felt for his pulse._

_Nothing._

_His LED was solid red and he could already feel the artificial tears building up quickly, threatening to spill at any moment. His systems were operating as fast as he could make them; he showed no signs of movement, he wasn’t breathing, and he had no heartbeat. He’d died about ten minutes ago so CPR had a 0% chance of making any difference and neither did any of the other forms of medical assistance he had registered._

_He’d been gone too long for anything to bring him back._

_”No—no, no, no, come on, please—please don’t go, Hank, I-I don’t—I can’t—“ His voice broke and he finally broke with it._

He shook himself out of the memory. He didn’t want to remember the rest. He didn’t want to remember how pathetic he’d been, how _broken_ he’d been when an ambulance finally arrived.

He could still feel the same devastation and fear and dread he’d felt when he found his body. He still remembered the desperation, how he wanted so badly for there to be some way, _any_ way to save him, to bring him back, but he knew it was hopeless.

It had been three weeks, and he could still feel the sorrow and anguish he’d felt the moment he’d realized that Hank was truly gone.

All he wanted right now was for Hank to hold him in his arms and tell him it was gonna be okay.

But humans didn’t come back.

Maybe that was why he was walking down the empty street where the Chicken Feed food truck had stood for over a century. Of course, the owner, Gary Kayes, had died, even before Hank did, despite being three years younger. Connor had been there to help Hank cope with his death. Nobody had been around for a long time to replace him, so it remained abandoned in the same spot it’d been in before the revolution.

He scanned the area and a single information tab appeared on the sidewalk. When his eyes flicked over to it, it expanded.

**DATE: NOVEMBER 12, 2038**

**EVENT: FIRST HUG FROM HANK**

**◻ RECONSTRUCT**

Hank had hugged him often after the revolution, but this one had always been his favorite because it had been the first.

His LED flickered to red when he saw Hank’s figure again but he ignored it. Instead, as he played the reconstruction, he retraced his steps exactly; a futile attempt to make the memory seem at least a little bit realer. He still remembered Hank’s smile; the first real, genuine smile he’d seen from him. Hell, it might’ve been the first smile in general he’d seen from him.

He watched Hank’s outline take a few hesitant steps toward him, then stop.

Then, as the outline approached him and closed the distance between them, Connor closed his eyes and tried to let himself believe that, even if for just a moment, this was real.


End file.
